And one greeted death as an old friend
by Toki's Little Helper
Summary: A change is coming to Mordhaus, one of a grave nature. No one will come out unscathed, and after this, nothing will ever be the same. *non-slash
1. Chapter 1

A cloked figure glided down the silent halls of Mourdhous. He had been there many times, and those who lived there had grown to sense when he was there. Death stopped outside a door. He waited. With time, he was greeted by the man in the suit. Nothing was said as Death stepped through the now open door.

Pickles knew Death was behind him, but he made no move to let him through. He knew this wasn't like movies, where someone could offer themselves up instead. They couldn't put it off either. It would happen, no hero could stop it. And so, with a heavy heart, he stepped aside.

Murderface simply tried to ignore death, tried to pretend he wasn't there, but the icy chills sent though his spine made sure he couldn't deny what would happen here tonight. In the coming months he would continue to act as if everything was normal and nothing had changed, when it had been completly altered.

Nathan hated that fucking cloked douchebag. He didn't care if it was metal or brutal, he couldn't stand to be around him, or the cold of a million trapped souls. Death had become part of his life, and it had never really troubled him, the gory death of a nameless faceless Klokateer of the slaughter of a few hundred annoying fans, but tonight wasn't about the death of some unknown. And for that, Nathan hated him.

Skwisgaar Was not a man to be scared easily. Was he not a god after all? What could possibly faze him?! There was one thing though, something that he was reminded of harshly as Death crossed his path. It wasn't the fear of dying, rather the fear of dying alone. Tonight however, he pushed his secret fears aside, as it wasn't his turn. He had time left on this Earth.

Toki's eyes had snapped open the second Death entered the room. He refused to die with his eyes closed, not being able to see the end. He wanted to know exactly what happened when the hand of Death came upon him. He approaching slowly now, coming to collect Toki from the hospital bed he'd so long been restricted to by this god damn diesease. He had known for around a week now that he would not survive, and it was almost a blessing to feel the chill of Death. His eyes flickered to each one of the men in the room, saying his silent goodbyes as his voice had left him long ago. Death was almost at his bedside now, and Toki, gripping his deddybear, shakely got out of the bed. There was no fear in his eyes or heart, as he accepted it. And so, death derived no power from him.

And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life.

So how was that? My first Metalocalypse story and I got in a Harry Potter reference. Hope you all like, please review if you did- I'll give you chocolate *gasps* or pizza...!


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hey check it out, I'm updating! *yay!* I have unfortunately slipped somewhat out of this fandom And moved on to other things (cough-Hetalia-cough-OuranHighSchoolHostClub-cough ), but I will continue this story, even if I don't update regularly. Also, super massive thanks to my friend Ginger Anastase for getting me to publish this.**_

You can always tell when death has touched a room. It leaves a heavy darkness over everything and everyone, a darkness that you just have to leave to dissolve, as nothing will make it go. Now, that darkness fell think and fast on the remaining members of Dethklok.

Pickles sunk to the floor, holding his head. "Oh fuck." He mumbled quietly, until a particularly intelligent Klokateer brought him a bottle of vodka. He took it and took what was to be the first of many long swigs that night.

He had absolutely no idea how to deal with death, even though he was so often around it. But this was Toki, he was just a kid! He still had his whole life ahead of him, and so much to leave behind. It just wasn't fair! He remembered the first time the band had seen the scars on his back. The then seventeen year old had made up a lie to cover his past.

"I gots dem in a fights." He had said quickly, putting his shirt back on.

He had been so ashamed of his past, even though he had done nothing wrong. He was ashamed of the night terrors he had, the ones about whips and blood and snow. He was ashamed that he still cried when salt water touched the scars, causing them to flair up and burn. These things served as reminders of his past, and now they would never fade.

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"Toki? What's the matter dude? I heard ya screaming, you okay?"

The gutairist was shaking, his face contorted in a look of terror. Pickles may not have been a genius, but he was smart enough to deduct what had happened.

"You have a nightmare?" Pickles carefully sat down next to the younger man, not wanting to frighten him further. Toki whimpered, tears running silently down his face. The two stayed like that for a while, the silence only broken by Toki's whimpers.

"Do you want to watch some cartoons?" Toki looked up at the drummer. He still didn't know if he could trust him but... At least he wouldn't be alone. He nodded and followed Pickles into the oversized Lounge room. The dark room was filled with the soft light of the screen, that chased away the remnants of the dream.

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It's strange what the mind holds on to. It sorts through the good and bad, and holds what is deemed important. What is even stranger is what the mind chooses to present in a time of hardship.

yet it's these memories that we hold, and these memories that carry us through the dark.

**_*runs away* DON'T JUDGE MEEEE!_**


End file.
